The next morning in the Martin mansion began with an unusual calm. The weather was mild, the air smelled of rain, and the whole estate felt hushed, as though holding its breath. Lydia stood by the window of her small room, tying her apron, lost in thought. Her reflection on the glass looked tired but peaceful.
Every day had begun to feel the same — long hours of cleaning, serving, and pretending not to notice Jacob’s lingering stares. Yet, her heart always betrayed her. Each time she heard his voice or saw him smile, something warm fluttered inside her chest.
She pressed a hand over her heart and whispered to herself,
“Why can’t I stop thinking about him?”
Jacob, on the other hand, was seated in his office at the company, pretending to work but barely focusing on the documents in front
